


National Pi(e) Day

by ThatwasJustaDream



Series: Feb 2017 'Celebrations' Bingo Card [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: 1-million-words, First Time, M/M, National Pie Day, Pi Day, Pie, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 11:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9655409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: A bit of Destiel fluff with pie-hound Dean, patient Sam, and Cas catching a clue. Written for a February bingo- the prompt: National Pie/Pi Day. Also incorporates a bit of a certain 'cake' meme. Only 'M' for some suggestiveness and an 'f' bomb.





	

"Huckleberry?" Dean guessed. 

"No," Castiel said, trying to keep his disappointment at his own apparent failing out of his voice. "Would you like another bite of it, beregida? Would you care to guess again, or shall we move on?"

"Yeah... hit me with one more, buddy. I'll get it this time, I will."

They were in the bunker library; Castiel at the end seat of the table, Dean just around the corner to his left. Dean was forward a little, leaning on an elbow, mouth open to accept another sweet, tart, flaky bite from the fork in Cas' hand. 

Oh, and Dean was blindfolded. There was that, too.

It was, Sam thought, one of the more visually confusing sights he'd ever walked in on. Then he got a closer look, and....well, it still made zero sense. 

"Boisenberry!" Dean shouted as best he could, chewing around the latest morsel of ...apparently... boisenberry pie he'd been delivered, sounding very happy with himself.

He must have guessed right, because now Cas was murmuring compliments at Dean about his superior taste detection skills in that deep, scratchy, way-too-sincere tone he got when Dean was the only thing in the room to him and...

...what the actual hell?

"Castiel, did you bake all, uh, dozen of those pies?" Sam asked. "Wait... baker's dozen, missed one..."

The question got him an impatient eye-roll. Sam wasn't sure if it was because he was harshing Cas' vibe or because Cas was worried he might harsh Dean's vibe.

"Sam Winchester, what in our shared experience would make you think I have the patience or culinary skills to bake a pie?" Castiel shot back. "I ...materialized them."

He was cutting the next one with a long knife as he answered; plating a slice, neatly forking a bite of it for Dean - who was sitting there, mouth softly open again, waiting like he had all day.

"MmmmmMMMM...m," Dean accepted and chewed it, tapping a foot happily, like he was loving on the sensation - the blend of flavors blooming in his mouth. "Easy-peasy: Strawberry rhubarb. Nothing tastes like strawberry rhubarb."

Considering they'd seemingly been pulled into existence out of thin air, the pies were, Sam had to admit, something else: hot, rich - crusts that smelled like butter, fillings sweet and savory scenting the whole room. 

"I have to ask," Sam said. "I know I'm going to be sorry I did, but I have to ask: What the hell is this about?"

"It's National Pie Day," Dean took the time to say, looking Sam's way though he still had the blindfold on and so looking over made... no sense. Then he popped his mouth open for the next forkful.

"It's not National P-I-E day...." Sam started in, voice trailing off at the sharp, repeated shake of Castiel's head. 

It was National Pi Day, he wanted to explain, as in 3.14 but... whatever. It had been a difficult month for them all, hadn't it? And if Dean wanted to think it was P-I-E day or pretend to not have noticed the distinction, well...why burst his bubble?

"I'm surprised you didn't 'not bake' him a cake, too," Sam said, mock-innocently. "You probably should... you know...get some _cake_ in the mix for him."

"Sammy....." Dean was chewing down the bite of cherry pie in a damn hurry, trying to get his mouth clear enough to yell at him. "Shut the eff up!"

It was too late.

" _Cake?_ " Castiel asked, sounding confused but intrigued. 

"Yeah, cake. Considering Dean's recent epiphany...about cake and how he loves it. He was telling me all about it the other month; how, you know, you can love pie all your life, but then someone...uh...something happens and suddenly ....cake looks pretty frigging good."

"Don't make me get up," Dean was looking as annoyed as one could with a blindfold on and a mouth full of blueberry pie. "I will… if you don't stop it now- I will give you a beat down you won't forget...."

"I'm out of here," Sam headed for his room. "Have fun. Don't OD on sugar."

"Would you like a pie, Sam?" Castiel asked.

"No, thanks, man...” He gave Cas a nod that said he meant it. “Kind of you, but... I think I'll skip eating materialized, not-of-this-earth dessert confections. Who knows what the calorie count might be?"

-*-

Sam was barely out of the room when it dawned on Castiel.

"Ohh _hhhh_ hh….." He sighed it out, heart rising. "It was an analogy. What you told Sam...."

"I swear... I'm going to kick him," Dean growled, but he wasn't moving to take of the blindfold. “So hard…”

Then a burst of sudden, additional sweetness scented the room; something rich, and deeply nose-tingling.

"What's that?" Dean asked, voice suspicious but hopeful.

"Frosting," Castiel scooped an index-finger through it. "Chocolate."

He pressed it to Dean's lips and ...hoped. Gasped when Dean reached in, mouth taking in Castiel’s…. digit…. and sucking it clean. 

"Delish," Dean pronounced, a jaunty half-grin on his face, hand reaching to lift a corner of the blindfold and peer at him. "But what's that going onto, huh?"

"I thought...we could take it to your room..." Castiel suggested. "Since I am...apparently...the cake. I am... right? The cake?”

“Hell, yeah,” Dean was up, nodding at the bowl and taking him by the wrist, headed for his room. “You are, babe. Who else would be the cake?”

“Good,” Castiel let himself be led. “I didn’t …want to assume….”

-*-

The pies were still sitting there, unattended on the library table when Sam got up the next morning.

He grabbed one on the way by, stealing a few bites as he got their morning coffee going. 

“What are you whistling about?” Dean’s voice a few minutes later, sounding tired but…loose.

“Nothing,” Sam said. “Just the… air. It seems… clearer this morning. Devoid of…unresolved….what? Tension.”

“Shut up,” Dean was opening the fridge, leaning into it. Looking for the milk. “You make enough coffee for all of us?”

“Yep. Where’s Castiel?”

“He… won’t be up for a bit,” Dean said.

Sam tried not to snort, but one got out. It was worth it – being pelted with grapes from the veggie drawer.

“Happy…National Pie Day,” he said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean said. “Forever.”


End file.
